


Wyrm Teeth, Weaver Fangs

by Hungy4Blood



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Animal Death, Animal Instincts, Dark Crack, Gen, Hornet's eating habits are gross and not the healthiest, Mild Gore, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pale King is to blame as usual, Predator/Prey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27678868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hungy4Blood/pseuds/Hungy4Blood
Summary: Wyrms are creatures of ravenous destruction, devouring landscapes, bugs, and Gods alike.Hornet is only a Half-Wyrm being, but she has not escaped the Hunger passed down from her Father.Can she learn to control her primal instincts before it consumes her?
Relationships: The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Hornet & The Knight
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	Wyrm Teeth, Weaver Fangs

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there. I, like many other people, have strange and not quite wholesome ideas. I have chosen to write some of my ideas on an alternative account since ao3's method of making Alternative accounts still has your main account attached. Regardless, enjoy this weird story I wrote which I can best describe as "Hornet takes after her Father's diet and hates it". I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> **Chapter Warnings:** A Garpede and Tiktik are messily devoured by Pale King and Hornet respectfully. Mild Gore.

Father never joined them for dinner. It was always the two of them, Hornet, The Pale Gift, child of Beast and Wyrm, and the White Lady, Queen of Hallownest. But the King himself never appeared at the head of the table, his hand-crafted chair and place at the table always empty. 

“Where is Father?” Asked the child, ignoring the plate of vegetables piled before her. 

The White Lady didn’t answer immediately, drinking deeply from her cup. “He is eating dinner, like we are. He simply prefers to eat in his room. And who am I to deny him such a simple comfort?” She turned to Hornet, her milky-blue eyes, blind to the world, yet somehow staring right at the girl. “Why not go find him for yourself?”

Hornet excused herself from the table, clambering down from the elegantly carved chair. She saw this as an opportunity to escape her unwanted vegetables, and she was going to take it.

Her footsteps echoed in the empty halls, the tall ceilings making her feel even smaller. Deepnest’s tunnels were small and dark, a stark contrast to her Father’s home. She didn’t feel comfortable in the Palace: the lights were too bright, the rooms too large. She felt vulnerable, watched from all sides. Silent, stealthy observers in the form of staff, noblebugs, and her Father’s constructs watched and judged her every move.

Hornet came to a stop at her Father’s doors, gilded with gold and silver and other metals she didn’t recognize. With a sudden and unexplained hesitation, she barely cracked open the door to peek inside.

She could her Father inside, crouching by the bed. Hornet pushed the door open more, knowing that the hinges were too well oiled to creak and give her away. From the doorway, Hornet stood. Barely feet apart, yet feeling miles away.

Hornet watched as her Father devoured his prey. 

She noted that he was eating a Garpede, fully grown. But the corpse was mangled nearly beyond recognition. Modified chelicerae kept the Garpede still as a ring of mandibles, each tipped with a white fang, tore into its flesh and shell. The once thought to be impenetrable shell of the Garpede was torn asunder by her Father, who devoured the tough shell and soft, squishy insides alike. After enough of the shell had been cracked and consumed, her Father dug deeper into his prey to slurp up the gore inside. He pulled out more flesh, dripping and oozing from his mouth as his ring of mandibles crushed and chewed before he began to swallow. His hands and face were stained a brilliant blue, his pristine appearance shattered.

She was taken out of her daze by a cleaner bug, who grabbed her arm to yank her away. They tried to talk to her, scold her maybe. But Hornet didn’t hear. All she could focus on was the image of her Father stained blue.

* * *

“I’m going hunting.” Hornet announced to her siblings, her voice flat. Hollow lay motionless on the bed, wrapped up in so many bandages she may as well be preserving them. But her sibling _was_ alive, their form slowly rising and falling with their breathing.

The little Vessel, or Ghost, as she’s been calling them of late, stood at her announcement, reaching for their nail. Hornet shook her head. “No. I’m going alone. Stay here.” She tried to stare into their eyes, looking for some sort of recognition of her command. Instead, she was only met with the faint flicker of void. “Watch over Hollow. I’ll return with food.”

She left their temporary nest before either vessel could try and stop her. Their nest was in the Forgotton Crossroads, quiet and empty since the infection was cleared. Once Hollow was better, they could move into a more permanent residence.

But that was in the distant future, and as for now, she needed food. And with the Forgotten Crossroads empty, that meant she had to hunt elsewhere. Greenpath was closest, the prey hidden inside its vivid foliage fresh and clean.

Hornet wasted no time in her trek over to Greenpath, and once she stepped foot inside, she took a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. It was time to hunt. 

There was an itch in her body, deep inside the pit of her stomach. It clawed on her insides like a monster, never truly gone. It snarled and bit, causing great pain, and sometimes she swore she could hear it whispering sweet and terrible lies into her ears.

Hornet needed to eat.

She set off deep into the greenery, the grip on her needle as strong as iron. She could hear the leaves rustling and smell the plants surrounding her. She waited, waited, waited- _Pounced._ She smelled it before she saw it, a large Tiktik, fat and scrambling to escape. She wouldn’t let it. She couldn’t afford to let her prey escape, and she _wouldn’t._

Hurling her needle at her target, she aimed for the legs. Hornet wanted her prey alive, afterall, and skewering it through would negate her plans. She aimed low, hoping to knock the Tiktik on its back to render it immobile.

Her needle embedded itself into the dirt, spraying rocks and sediment where it fell. The Tiktik was struck by the blow, falling onto its side, frantically scrambling to right itself. It squealed in fear, its legs skittering and clawing on the dirt nearby. 

Hornet plucked the creature from the ground, squirming in her grasp. The writhing prey in her claws only served to whet her more primal instincts and appetite, satisfying some animalistic pride tucked away in her heart. But there was no sense in prolonging the inevitable for this Tiktik, it was her prey, and prey had one use and one use only: food.

She shifted her grip on the Tiktik, holding it with two hands. Her stomach churned, hunger stabbing through her like nails and needles. She could taste the venom on her fangs, and the Tiktik squirmed harder in her grasp as if sensing its fate. She knew from experience that she could not bite through the Tiktik’s shell on the top of their bodies, but the underside was vulnerable. So she quickly flipped it over in her hands.

Wasting no time, Hornet lunged forward, her fangs piercing its soft underbelly, pumping its body full of acidic venom. She didn’t even bother waiting for the venom to take effect, really, injecting the venom in her prey was more of a formality at this point. While her prey was still writhing from her fangs, she used her mandibles and chelicerae to rip off the Tiktik’s head to gulp it down. Part of her was a little disappointed that her prey no longer wiggled in her claws, only twitching occasionally, but she _did_ pump it full of venom and swallow its head. 

Hornet didn’t dwell on that thought for long, as the venom had finished its job in liquifying the organs (at least partially). She used her mandibles to tear open her prey’s belly to slurp the gory slush of what used to be organs. A part of her demanded she check for flecks of infection in her prey, but a stronger, more instinctual part of her demanded she keep eating.

The organs and head devoured, she chomped down some of the less tasty but nonetheless filling parts of her meal. The legs and softer bits of shell. She could not eat the back-plates, so she chewed them for a moment before spitting them back onto the green floor below her.

And the Tiktik was gone. Completely consumed, devoured, currently digesting. All that remained was its protective armor and the blue blood staining Hornet's hands and face.

Hornet was. Satisfied. Not _full_. Never full, she could eat more Tiktiks if she could. She often bitterly joked to herself about needing a fully grown Nosk to satisfy her Ungodly appetite. But for now, she was sated, the edge of her hunger dulled enough to concentrate on other matters.

Like how _disgusted_ she was with herself.

Hornet knew other bugs did not always possess fangs or chelicerae or mandibles, and she knew no other bug had _all three_ . Hornet was an oddity, an anomaly, a _monster._ If she were to openly consume her prey as she normally did in front of other bugs, she would be chased out of the Kingdom with pitchforks. Bug were watching her constantly, passively or actively. She had to keep up appearances.

She also knew no other bug shared her Wyrm-like appetites and violent cravings, and it disgusted and scared her. Hornet didn’t _want_ to share her Father’s appetite and way of eating. She would have preferred the more accepted and ‘normal’ methods that other Weavers used. It never worked, it never satisfied the hunger she felt.

Hornet recalled hearing stories of Wyrm's devouring entire towns, bugs vanishing down their teeth-filled throat. They haunted her as a child, fearing a Wyrm would sneak into her room at night. And now they haunted her as an adult, fearing that she would become the Wyrms in her nightmares. Would she ever get to that point? Would Tiktiks and Vengeflies not satisfy her? Would she turn on other sentient bugs? _Her siblings?_

Hornet stopped herself from thinking such things. She wiped her mouth clean of the brilliantly blue blood and picked up her needle from the dirt where it lay abandoned in favor of her natural weapons.

Now with her hunger out of her mind, she could focus on setting more traditional traps to catch something for her siblings.


End file.
